It was just another day when Stiles entered Hale's in time to see a young kid pull a gun on the owner and blond assistant. Derek and Erica both had their hands up as the kid waved his gun in the air. The robber fired no warning shots but he yelled more than once that everyone would get a bullet in their head if they even looked at him funny. It was past the morning rush but the few unlucky patrons who'd stuck around, to enjoy their drinks and pastries, and Stiles all hit the ground when ordered to their knees. When the robber's attention was back on Derek and away from him, Stiles pulled his cell out of his back pocket and called his partner at the prescient, Boyd. Once he was sure Boyd had picked up he put it in the front pocket of his plaid button down.

"Give me all the money in the register!" the kid demanded pointing his gun at Derek.

Not even hesitating, Derek pressed a button on the register and it sprang open with a ding. Whenever Stiles had bought coffee in the past he teased Derek about the ding. "It's like the register is saying, 'give me your money.'" Stiles had laughed like it was the funniest thing but soon after that he stopped paying for coffee, instead getting them on the house. It was one of the perks of dating a coffeehouse's owner. Now the ding made Stiles' stomach roll.

"Here, just take it. Please don't hurt anyone," Derek implored as he slid the cash across the counter.

"I know you have to have a safe in the back. I want all the money you have here!"

Shaking his head, Derek said, "There's nothing in the back. We took the money out last night and my sister took it to the bank. That," he pointed to the ratty backpack the kid had stuffed with money. "Is all we have."

Unhappy with the answer the gunman leaned over and knocked Erica out cold with the butt of his gun. As she slid down to the floor, after hitting the back wall, the kid turned to the other customers. "Give me all your money, jewelry, everything!" he yelled. Derek, looking livid, bent over Erica, holding her to him.

"Look kid," Stiles kept his voice low and calm. Hands out in front of him, in his regular clothes, Stiles looked unthreatening. "No one else has to get hurt here." Slowly Stiles stood up. On his phone he could just hear Boyd rounding up his co-workers. "Just take the money you have and go."

Instead the kid went to the closest woman to him and ripped her necklace off of her. "I'm not asking twice," he threatened.

"Kid please, listen to me," Stiles tried again. "Erica may be out for the count but you haven't really hurt anyone. Whatever is going on, whatever drove you to this point, I promise it's not as bad as the trouble you will be in when the police get here."

"The police?" the kid scoffed.

"Yes, the police. They're on their way. So now is your chance to run, get them on a wild goose chase, or hand over that gun before everything get worse. Because when they get here, if you have that in your hand, there won't be any mercy."

"Is that so…" Even though the gunman's voice didn't betray his nerves, Stiles saw how the kid gulped several times and how his eyes kept darting to the street.

"You don't want to do this, kid. You are way to young to be throwing your life away like this." Stiles took a small step towards the kid and when he wasn't shot, took another. "A kid like you, you won't survive jail. And even if by some miracle you do-" Down the road, Stiles and everyone in the coffeehouse could hear sirens. "Your life is still over. There's no coming back from this."

The kid looked desperately at the door at Stiles was blocking. The first of several cop cars stopped on the street, several officers exiting them to stand on the street. With them a crowd of observers pointed at Hale's, wondering what was going on inside.

"See that didn't take long. Cops are here."

Pointing his gun at Stiles, the kid fumed, "You called them! Didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Stiles admitted. "See, I am Deputy Stilinski and those good men and women out there would really like to see us all get out of here in one piece. Come on kid, hand over the weapon. Let's end this, please."

Looking at the woman whose necklace he still held in his free hand, the kid jerked his head towards the door. "You, get out of here. You too," he muttered to the other customers. Quick as they could the three patrons stood and rushed past Stiles.

"Let them go too. If you're hell bent on turning this into a hostage thing then let them go too," Stiles said, gesturing to Derek who was standing, holding Erica in his arms bridal style. There was blood dripping down the side of Erica face, making a mess of her sweater. "I'm worth way more than they are."

"Stiles-" Derek tried but he was quickly cutoff.

"Shut up, Derek."

Seeming to agree, the kid nodded once and stepped back, giving Derek room to get by him. Derek took one step forward, his eyes locked on Stiles'. When Stiles nodded, Derek hurried to the door, opening it with his hip making sure not to knock Erica at all.

"There now… it's just the two of us. Isn't that better?" Stiles pulled over a chair and sat down. He signaled for the gunman to sit as well but he didn't. Pacing and breathing hard, the kid ran his hand through his hair. "You know," Stiles said conversationally. "All you have to do is hand over that gun and we can both exit here right now. It's not that hard." Stiles held out his hand. "Just give it to me, kid. Put it right here in my hand."

"I'm not a kid," the gunman spat, gun hand on his hip.

"Ok, sure. I won't call you kid." Stiles shrugged his shoulders. "I won't call you kid. How do you feel about dude?"

"Jeeze don't you ever shut up?"

Stiles let out a short laugh. "Dude, you know my boyfriend complains about that all the time. He says the only way to shut me up is with kisses." When the kid made a face of disgust Stiles continued, "And he doesn't really like me to call him dude. So, maybe I'll use my 'dude quota' on you. That ok, dude?"

The kid took in a deep breath and held it. Once he released it, he took a step towards Stiles and pointed the gun right at his chest. "Shut up."

Not listening, Stiles said, "What about you, dude, have a boyfriend, girlfriend, someone?"

"Shut up!"

"My boyfriend is pretty awesome. You actually met him." Stiles scratched at his neck, still trying to be calm with a gun pointed at him. "He's the owner here; this is his place." Stiles made a sweeping gesture to show off Hale's. "Makes getting my morning cup of Joe pretty easy huh? Come on dude." He slapped his thigh. "You have to have someone out there whose gonna care when you get your ass thrown in jail. But you could save her, or him, a lot of heartache if you just hand over the gun." Putting his hand back out, Stiles said, "Come on, dude. Please. We don't have too much more time before everyone out there comes storming in. And my guess is you really don't want to hear about how much I love my boyfriend while we wait."

"You're right, I don't."

Stiles didn't hear the pop of the gun or feel the fire that exploded in the chest when the bullet entered his body. He didn't feel his head hit the floor. And he didn't notice how uncomfortable he was with the chair underneath him, his legs in the air because he'd hooked his ankles around the chair legs. He also didn't here the following shots that rang out when Boyd and whomever he'd wrangled up came in and took the kid down.

But what he did hear was Derek yelling his name over and over. And he felt the soft, well washed fabric of Derek's jeans when he turned his head to look at his boyfriend and bumped his nose on Derek's knee. "I'm fine-" he choked. "No worse than the Tabasco incident."

Derek let out a sniffle and ran his hand through Stiles' hair. "You're gonna be fine," he whispered over and over as the EMT's rushed around them.

"I'm already-"